


I Can Be Good (If You Just Wanna Be Bad)

by asexual-fandom-queen (writeordietrying)



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Comeplay, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, F/F, F/M, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Spanking, Threesome - F/F/M, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-29
Updated: 2017-06-29
Packaged: 2018-11-20 21:35:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11343597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writeordietrying/pseuds/asexual-fandom-queen
Summary: “Attagirl,” Len says, from somewhere over Iris’ shoulder. “Hold off for me, Sara. I want you to put on a show.”Written for Day One of Legends of Super Flarrow Polyam Week: F/F/M





	I Can Be Good (If You Just Wanna Be Bad)

**Author's Note:**

> My late contribution for F/F/M day for polyam week. Hopefully it's worth the wait. 
> 
> A few things about possible squicks/triggers I didn't want to pollute the tags with. First, this fic contains **Dom!Len, sub!Iris, and switch!Sara** who's Dominant Iris and submissive with Len. It also includes the use of **misogynistic language** , both by the characters (consensually) and in the narration. If that isn't your cup of tea, this might not be the fic for you (which is totally fine!) 
> 
> The title for this fic was taken from the song [Government Hooker](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o8uMXyxvbKA) by Lady Gaga (which is one of my all-time faves)
> 
> And as always, if you like it, leave me a kudos and a comment to let me know! It would really make my day!

Iris doesn’t register the sting of scalding water against her fingers until she’s already pulled them from the faucet’s steaming stream. She closes the knob and reminds herself for the third time this week that just letting the hot water run never leaves the window of perfect lukewarm open long enough to wash off all the soap as she dries her hands on a dishtowel and tries not to grimace. 

A pair of warm, strong arms loop around Iris’ waist, and Sara’s lips latch to the curve of her bare shoulder. Sara rocks her hips forward, and Iris’ own press into unyielding cupboard door. 

“Smells good,” Sara hums. Her nose traces a path up Iris’ neck to the spot behind her ear that makes her toes curl while deft fingers slide under the hem of Iris’ favourite threadbare cotton camisole. 

Iris eyes the large mixing bowl set aside on the stovetop, covered with a blue and white tea towel to let the challah bread dough proof. The slanted, looping text of the recipe etched into an old index card Iris pulled from a box of Len’s few personal possessions in their safe has faded over time to broken blue lines and depression in the cardstock, and Iris hopes turning it into the light was enough to read everything correctly. 

Iris doesn’t have long to ponder the efficacy of her baking endeavour before Sara’s fingers pull her focus. One hand ventures further up her shirt, cupping one breast, as the other snakes between Iris’ hips and the counter to slide into her pajama shorts. 

“You’re such a horndog,” Iris chides, though her voice is breathy and raw, and she groans and presses forward into Sara’s touch as Sara slips her fingers past Iris’ lips to rub her. 

Sara chuckles, warm and hot against Iris’ neck, and takes her earlobe between her teeth. “Guilty,” she says, and it’s practically a purr. Iris shudders and groans again as Sara’s left hand ventures higher to thumb Iris’ nipple, already hard and hypersensitive from Sara’s fingers on her clit. 

Iris doesn’t bite her lips, doesn’t even try to temper the moans that spill from her mouth or the way her body rocks pathetically into Sara’s every touch. She knows how much it gets Sara off, to have Iris loud and needy and whorish.  

Sara kisses the nape of Iris’ neck sloppily, Iris’ hair pulled out of the way in a bun high on her head. 

“Baby,” Iris whines as Sara’s fingers make a hasty retreat from between her legs. 

“Turn around,” Sara whispers, harsh and demanding. Her hands dig into the supple swell of Iris’ hips with bruising force as she manhandles her into place. Iris lets out a short, sharp cry and blinks back the moisture that springs to her eyes. Still, her knees turn to jelly and she stays loose and complacent in Sara’s arms. 

Sara pinches Iris’ hip greedily to draw out another noise, a deep, shuddering breath this time. Sara relents only after taking a moment to hold Iris there, muscles drawn tight, brow pinched, Sara squeezing just that little bit harder each time her body starts to adjust to the pain. Sara rubs the sensitive, reddened skin with bony, calloused fingers that manage to somehow be gentle and soft as she kisses the column of Iris’ throat. 

“You look so pretty like this,” Sara whispers, pushing Iris’ top up to cup and knead her breast again.

Iris doesn’t have any makeup on to brighten her eyes, or hide the breakout forming on the corner of her chin. Her hair is an afterthought, twisted into a messy bun at the top of her head for convenience over aesthetics, and she still has on last night’s pjs. 

She also doesn’t doubt Sara for a second. 

“I’m always pretty,” Iris corrects, and Sara chuckles. She dips her fingers beneath Iris’ waistband and pushes up into her cunt. Iris mewls and rolls her hips and buries her face in Sara’s neck. 

“Yes, you are,” she agrees. 

Sara is relentless. The obscene sound of her fingers driving into Iris’ desperate, dripping pussy sound impossibly loud in the close confines of their kitchen. Iris can smell her arousal in the air, feel it drenching her underwear as it leaks past Sara’s fingers. She whines and ruts and sucks on Sara’s pulse thundering in her neck. 

“Sara, please,” Iris begs, right on the edge and frantic to fall over. 

Instead of obliging, Sara halts her thrusts, fingers still buried to the hilt in Iris’ cunt. She keeps the pads of her fingers tracing light, teasing strokes over Iris’ G-spot that feel  _ so good _ , just not good enough to come. She grips Iris’ hip with her free hand to keep her from pushing forward, seeking a level of pressure that would be more satisfying.  

“Lenny texted,” Sara says, and it takes all of Iris’ concentration to focus on her words and what they mean. “He’ll be home any minute.” 

A shiver runs up Iris’ spine. “You sound like you have something in mind,” she says, gulping against the sudden knot anticipation’s put in her throat. 

Sara laughs. “You know I do.” 

Sara’s fingers come out of Iris’ shorts slick, and she brings them to Iris’ lips and watches with hooded eyes as Iris sucks them clean. She licks a stripe up Sara’s palm from the wrist when she’s done with her fingers, catching the last of her fluids on her tongue, then takes the tip of Sara’s middle finger into her mouth and sucks again for good measure. 

“Do you have any idea how wet you make me?” Sara asks. Her voice is low and husky and Iris’ clit throbs. She releases Sara’s finger with an obscene noise.

“Show me.” 

Sara takes Iris by the wrist and leads her out of the kitchen. Instead of steering them toward the bedroom, Sara leads Iris to their apartment door. A spike of heat shoots up Iris’ spine as she catches on to Sara’s train of thought. Sweat beads on the back of her neck. 

“You don’t need this,” Sara says absently, sliding her fingers under Iris’ camisole and pulling it over her head. Sara takes one breast in her mouth, teeth and tongue working Iris’ nipple, as she kneads the other in her hand. 

“Or these,” Sara adds, drawing back once Iris is a panting, whining mess, which doesn’t take long at all. Iris’ pajama shorts join her camisole on the floor. 

“Or these.” 

With a coy smile, Sara hooks her fingers around the gusset of Iris’ panties. She rubs the point of her knuckles forcefully against Iris’ core for good measure, and the satisfaction or hearing Iris moan, before pulling them off Iris’ hips and down. 

Iris steps out of her panties and kicks them aside. Sara is quicker with her own shorts and underwear. They’re around her ankles by the time Iris turns back. 

“Get on your knees,” Sara orders, her voice low and rough and commanding in a way that’s so unbearably heady.

Iris obeys in an instant, the heat and the throbbing in her cunt so intense she’s desperate to touch herself but doesn’t, because Sara hasn’t said that’s what she wants. Instead, Iris turns her focus to Sara’s gorgeous pussy, to her pubic mound with its neatly trimmed strip of hair, not exactly blonde but certainly fairer than her own would be if she let it grow, and the puffy skin of her outer lips, already glistening with her slick. 

Sara widens her stance, and more of her pussy exposes itself for Iris’ hungry eyes. The expectation is clear, but Sara tells her anyway, because she knows how much Iris likes to hear it. 

“Come lick my pussy, babe.” 

She’s standing far enough away that Iris has to move closer, drop her hands to the floor and look up at Sara through her lashes as she crawls to her like a whore, every peak and valley and plane of her body on full display while Sara is still half clothed. 

When Iris stops at Sara’s feet, she straightens. She’s ready to shuffle the rest of the way forward on her knees until Sara tracks the motion and stops her. 

“Not like that,” Sara says. “I want you to lean forward.” 

Unquestioningly, Iris does. She braces herself on Sara’s thighs and feels the compact muscle tense beneath her fingers, rooting Sara to the spot against the push of Iris’ weight. 

“Good,” Sara hums. She runs her fingers through the front of Iris’ hair, stroking her thumb against Iris’ forehead, and smiles gently, though the heat in her clear blue eyes still burns with frightening intensity. “Now, spread your legs.” 

Iris’ cunt throbs and floods with heat as she registers Sara’s command. The way they’re standing, Sara facing the door, Iris on her knees in front of her, means spreading her legs puts her slick, swollen,  _ needy _ pussy on perfect display for when the front door opens. 

“You want Lenny to see how fucking wet you are for me, right babe?” Sara presses. Not that she has to. Iris is practically tripping over herself to shuffle her knees apart. “Show him how much of a good little slut you can be. Desperate to lick me, wherever I want, whenever I say. To show him how much you want your mouth full of my pussy.” 

Iris keens and Sara pulls her forward by the hair. “Come here,” she says, then groans as Iris’ lips wrap around her clit and start sucking. 

“That’s it, Iris,” she sighs, hips rocking, hand wrapped in Iris’ hair, fucking her face as Iris laps at her, sloppy and eager and obscenely loud. “That’s it, babe. You can take it. You’re such a good girl. You wanna be a good girl for Lenny and me?” 

Iris doesn’t let up, not that the way Sara holds her face to her cunt would let her. She whines out a sharp, affirmative noise instead and keeps eating Sara out like it’s the only thing in the world that matters. 

“Show him how good you can be with that mouth,” Sara says. “And maybe he’ll let you use it on him, too. Would you like that? To have his dick in your mouth. How deep could you take him, Iris? All the way to the base? Open up that pretty little throat for him until you gag. I know you can. Just like you eat me so good, baby. So, so fucking good.” 

Sara’s legs start to shake. Her grip on Iris’ hair shifts from uncomfortable to painful, and Iris whines so desperately as the pain just makes her cunt clench tighter. She can feel her own slick dripping from her lips the same way Sara’s runs down her chin and it’s killing her in the best possible way that no one is touching her pussy because she’s so fucking close, she just has to get Sara there first. 

The front door rattles as a key slides into the lock. 

Iris hears the door open, and then nothing. Silence. The door doesn’t creak shut, it doesn’t latch closed. Len must be watching from the threshold, leaving Iris open and exposed for any poor, unsuspecting neighbour in the hall to see her, to see how much of a slut she is for her girlfriend’s cunt, for her boyfriend’s appraising eyes. 

Iris’ blood rushes south so fast she’s nearly lightheaded with it. Her pussy flames and throbs and screams for attention. 

She buries her face deeper in Sara’s cunt and keens. 

“Darlings, I’m home,” Len drawls, rather unnecessarily, but the sound sends even more heat spiking through Iris’ core. Finally, Iris hears the door swing shut, and the gentle rustle of Len taking of his jacket and boots. 

It’s perhaps the fact that Iris can’t see Len to read his reaction that makes the whole thing especially thrilling. She has to imagine the way his eyes trace every line of her body, the way his gaze must fixate on her head slotted between Sara’s thighs, or the dark, slippery lips of her pussy spread wide for him and the puddle of her wetness gathered on the floor beneath it at gravity’s behest. 

Equally likely, Len’s gaze is caught on the erect points of Sara’s nipples poking out against the loose-fitting fabric of her well-worn SCPD shirt. Iris knows Sara staying partway clothed while she’s stripped isn’t just about the power trip.

Iris wears her fair share of CCPD clothes around the apartment, too, and it never fails to garner a reaction from Len. In their more tender, intimate moments, it’s a quiet sort of awe, a humbled appreciation that these two women who come from foundations built on justice and service and honour chose him, and continue to choose him every day, as someone worthy of trust and love, someone worthy of spending their lives with.  

Other times, it serves as a reminder for Len that he has the daughters of two highly respected police detectives ready and willing to do anything he asks, to beg for his hands, and his mouth, and his cock, to be so filthy and debauched for him they could never look their fathers in the eye if they knew what Len got up to with their precious little angels. He fucks so good, so deep and hard and demanding those night that both Iris and Sara cry when he finally lets them come and feel it for days after. 

This feels like one of those other times. 

Len’s footsteps pick up again, and all Iris can do is suck on Sara’s clit harder and make her moan to prove just how good she can be, just how much she deserves to have him touch her. Wind brushes against Iris’s skin and Len’s footsteps retreat down the hall. 

Iris hears a door creak open, then the faucet turn on. The smell of soap reaches her nose seconds later, and a fresh stab of white, hot arousal makes her cunt spasm wildly, leaves her so warm she thinks she must be gushing, but without permission to rub her thighs together and check. 

He’s washing his hands. 

It’s so meticulous, so controlled, like seeing Iris on her knees with her pussy on display for him, lapping at Sara’s cunt so keenly the sounds of wet and skin and sex fill every corner of the room, Sara’s panting and moaning just as loud, does nothing to Len. Like she still hasn’t done anything to merit his attention, hasn’t earned his touch or his cock, for all she’s throwing herself at his feet like a desperate whore. 

The casual dismissal makes Iris’ blood run so hot she’s practically sobbing into Sara’s folds with frustration. He hips jerk forward and back beyond her control, but it does nothing to alleviate the mounting pressure or the maddening need for release without anything to grind down on. 

Sara’s fingers scrape at Iris’ scalp as Iris pours every ounce of her own desire into eating Sara out. “You’re being such a good girl, Iris,” Sara praises, her voice whispy and ragged. “Such a filthy little slut, eating my pussy. Waiting to touch. You’re being so good. Just a little bit longer.” 

Iris doesn’t want to wait a little bit longer, but she wants to come without permission even less. 

Finally, Len ventures back from the bathroom with freshly cleaned hands. Iris can tell she has Sara right on the edge, holding back for permission, too, now that Len’s home to give it. Never one to suffer alone, Iris swirls her tongue in a way she knows drives Sara wild and revels as Sara gasps and clenches and tugs hard on Iris’ hair to keep from coming. 

“Attagirl,” Len says, from somewhere over Iris’ shoulder. “Hold off for me, Sara. I want you to put on a show.” 

Sara shudders. “Fuck, Leonard, please,” she begs. From under her lashes, Iris watches Sara chew her lips, already plush and chapped and swollen. Her fingers twitch in Iris’ hair, both hands pulling and scratching and pricking with their nails, and Iris feels Sara’s cunt flutter under her tongue. 

Len hums, low and considering, in that same irreverent way that just keeps making Iris hotter. 

“Please,” Sara says again, her voice a whimpering sob as her hips twitch and fuck harder onto Iris’ tongue, erratic and desperate, her control hanging by a thread. “I can’t hold it, Len. Please. Her fucking mouth.” 

“Tell me how good it is, sweetheart,” Len prompts. He steps finally into Iris’ field of vision. She watches as Len slides his palm up Sara’s stomach, over her shirt, pinches one pert nipple between his thumb and forefinger, and twists. 

Sara keens. “Fuck!” 

“You’ll need to be a little more articulate than that.” 

Len doesn’t give Sara a chance to breathe, knows she’ll ask for it if that’s what she really needs. Instead, he tweaks her nipple again, then lowers his head to nip and suck at the hard nub through the layer of thin blue cotton. 

“She’s so good,” Sara whines, finding her words at last. Len makes a small noise of approval, but doesn’t pull his mouth away from her chest. “Listen to how wet I am for her. Because she’s such a good girl. So fucking sexy. She licks my pussy just like I tell her. Sucks on my clit just how I like.” 

Len finally draws back. He slides his hand under Sara’s shirt and pushes it up as he speaks to expose the nipple he’s been sucking, small and pink and pebbled. “Iris is wet for you, too, Sara. Her pussy is so shiny. I bet she’d appreciate it if you licked her, too. Shoved your tongue in her hole and lapped her up while you came all over that beautiful face of hers.” 

Iris whines, then shoves her tongue in Sara’s hole to mirror Len’s words. She plunges her tongue in and out, goes for broke and bumps Sara’s clit with her nose. Her slick is already all over Iris’ face, dripping down her chin, her chest, a mixture of spit and Sara’s juices wetting one of her nipples and leaving it hard, untouched, and painful as the evaporating fluids leave it chilled.

It’s killing Iris not to touch herself, just like it’s killing Sara not to come, legs shaking under Iris’ hands, cunt throbbing against her tongue. She’s so close to giving in, to reaching down and rubbing two, three circles around her clit and going off like a bottle rocket, but she waits. Len isn’t sadistic, and he’s good enough at reading people to know how far he can push. It’s the reason they do this in the first place, because Iris trusts Sara and Len alike to take her to the brink, hold her there, then help bring her down when the time is exactly right. 

“Or maybe I should touch Iris myself,” Len says. He punctuates the statement by sucking on Sara’s bare nipple, pulling it between his teeth and flicking it with his tongue, all while holding Iris’ pleading eyes as she licks Sara slow from her hole to her clit. 

“After how good you’ve been,” Len continues, switching his mouth out for his fingers against Sara’s skin. “You deserve to come on my cock. Get it nice and hard with your mouth then let it fill you up while you bounce on it like a whore. I’ll fuck you till you scream, Iris. Until your cunt is raw and you can’t tell if you’re begging me to stop or to fuck harder.” 

Iris’ hips snap forward on instinct and Len chuckles. “That’s it,” he says. “Show me how you’d ride my cock. Ride Sara’s face. Her strap-on. You fuck so good, Iris. Let me watch you.” 

And it’s so fucking debasing, but Len’s pupils are blown wide and Sara’s moans are high and breathy and bleeding into one, and Iris lets her hips go, lets herself rock and thrust and picture something, anything, fucking into her. 

“Good girl,” Len says. He runs his fingers through Sara’s hair, pulls her head back and licks a stripe up her neck as he holds Iris’ wanton gaze. “Make Sara come and I’ll let you come, too.” 

Sara keens in relief. “I can--” she starts to ask, just to be sure, but Len beats her to it.

“You can come,” he says. 

Iris barely gets in one last roll of her tongue over Sara’s clit before Sara is screaming out her release, every muscle shaking so hard her legs give out. Len catches her weight from behind and holds her up, sucking kisses into her neck and rocking his rough, denim-clad hips against the swell of her ass to press the firm outline of his cock against her. 

“Lick her through it, nice and slow,” Len tells Iris, and Iris obliges. 

When Sara’s fingers loosen in her hair, Len tells Iris to ease off. As soon as her mouth comes away, Len’s fingers slide between Sara’s folds. He rubs her until she’s mewling and whining again, rocking her hips into his hand. 

Iris watches them with greedy, hungry eyes until Len’s sucked a bruise he’s satisfied with into the pale column of Sara’s throat and finally turns his attention back to her. 

“Stand up,” Len says. 

On shaky legs, Iris does. Len beckons Iris forward, then pulls his fingers from Sara’s cunt and holds them to her lips. “Suck,” he says. 

Iris licks the slick from Len’s fingers, holding his eyes all the while. She registers the way Len’s hips rock into Sara’s ass, the way Sara stares at her hotly through hooded lids, but nothing holds her attention like the sharp, piercing blue of Len’s gaze. 

“Let her taste,” Len orders, pulling his fingers from Iris’ mouth and running the pads over the plush swell of her bottom lip. Iris shifts forward and kisses Sara, sloppy and loud and wet with too much tongue. She keeps her thighs spread wide and fights tooth and nail against the urge to rub them together and relieve some of the ache still thrumming there. 

“Let’s go,” Len says after taking a minute to watch them, trailing his fingers and lips across Sara’s bare skin and leaving Iris desperate for release. He peels Sara out of her SCPD shirt and leaves it behind with the rest of their clothes before moving them into their shared bedroom at the end of the hall. 

“On the bed, on your back.” 

Iris lies down on the right side of the mattress and doesn’t hesitate to splay her legs wide, giving Len a better view of her pussy, glistening with slick, than he had when she was on her knees for him. Her clit is large and swollen, her outer lips thin and waxed bare. Her inner lips are long and broad and a bit asymmetrical, but perfect for someone to run the flat of their tongue along, or the point between. 

Sara flops down beside her on her stomach and half buries her face in Len’s pillow with an easy-going chuckle. She’s a post-orgasmic laugher, and even though Iris is stupid turned on, she still appreciates the gentle, familiar warmth that blooms in her chest over the sound, and over they way Len’s eyes soften into something more caring than hungry. 

“Len, please,” Iris begs to draw his attention back.

Len smirks, slow and self-assured, and reaches for his belt buckles. “Don’t worry,” he says. “You’ll get my cock, sweetheart. Just be patient.” 

Iris nearly rebukes that she’s  _ been _ patient but stops dead when Len’s zippers comes down. His jeans and underwear follow. 

Len’s cock is long and thick. Not so much of either that it’s daunting, but enough to be satisfied. They’ve got toys for daunting, if that’s what someone happens to want. In fact, there have been whole days in the history of their relationship devoted to daunting. 

Right now though, all Iris wants is the comfortable familiarity of Len’s body as it is, cock included. The way it curves ever-so-subtly left. The way the veins trace patterns along the shaft like marble. The way the mushroomed head leaks precome like a faucet when Iris or Sara finger him open. The way it fits so perfectly in her mouth. 

Len peels out of his shirt next, and Iris and Sara drink him in with greedy eyes. They make a beautiful mosaic, fair skin against tan against dark. The hard planes of Sara’s muscles, the ridges of her abs, the cut of her Adonis belt, and the memories of blade slashes and bullet wounds carved into her skin. The sleek muscles in Len’s arm, across the planes of his back, the soft give of his stomach, his hips, the peaks and valleys of scarring more extensive than even Sara’s, and his legs, soft with hair and stretching on for days. Iris, with her soft, unmarred skin, her short stature and smooth hands, the ample swell of her breast and her hips and her ass, and the gorgeous depressions those deposits of fat leave behind like chains of lightning. 

Len drops a hand high on Iris’ thigh and spreads her wider, sitting between her open legs and bringing his free hand to rub against the furrow of her groin. Iris jolts at the contact and whines, rocking her hips up shamelessly. 

“Please,” Iris cries. She can’t take the teasing anymore. She’s been good. “I’ve been so good. I have.” 

“I know you have, Iris,” Len whispers. His voice is soft and reassuring, and the back of Iris’ neck prickles. “I’m gonna take care of you. I promise.” 

Iris doesn’t have to wait long for Len to keep his word. He buries two fingers to the hilt in her pussy and fucks her so hard she sees stars. The heel of his hand stimulates her clit with pressure and friction if not finesse, and between that and rapidfire bouncing of his fingertips against her G-spot, Iris comes in less than a minute. She draws in a strangled breath and pitches her hips up off the mattress, humping down on Len’s finger as she chases every last burst of stimulation he can offer before she’s overstimulated. 

“You look so fucking amazing when you come,” Sara groans. Iris turns her head lazily to the side, still half out of it from coming so hard, and glances over at Sara, whose hand is shoved between her legs. 

“Did I say you could touch yourself?” Len asks, a note of disapproval clear in his tone. Iris doesn’t think she could muster a disapproving tone if she tried, given how ridiculously hot it is to watch Sara finger herself, even if she was the kind of person who got off on controlling her partners’ pleasure. 

Sara rolls onto her back, spreads her legs, and smirks. “Please, Lenny,” she says, holding Len’s eyes as she drives her fingers back into her cunt. She licks the fingers on her other hand and lowers them to her nipples, pinching and twisting both hardened peaks as she bites her lip and groans like a porn star. Iris’ cunt throbs with interest, and she’s struck with the sudden urge to bury her face in Sara’s pussy all over again. 

Len is not so easily affected, though the way his cock twitches betrays his indifference and makes Sara smirk again before Len grabs her by the foot. 

“Turn over,” Len demands, tugging Sara’s leg to usher her along. “Arch your back. Put that smart little ass of yours in the air.” 

Sara giggles. “Yes, Captain,” she replies. She assumes the position so well, face down, ass up, pussy on display and head turned to look back at Len over her shoulder. Her smile is coy, and Iris see Len’s lip twitch errantly as he tries to suppress amused grin. 

“You’re the one who comes better when I get to decide when you feel good and when you don’t,” Len reminds her, rubbing circles into one of her ass cheeks with his thumb. 

Sara scoffs. “Right,” she says. “Which is the only reason we fuck like this. Not because you’re an insufferable control freak.” 

Len’s laughter is smooth as honey, but gives way seconds later to the sharp slap of skin against skin and Sara gasps, caught off guard. 

“Please, Lenny,” she says again, but this time, it isn’t a petition for leniency. It’s a request for more. Len gives her what she asks for, his hand coming down hard on the opposite cheek, then back again to the first. 

Iris has tried being spanked twice before, once with Len and once with Sara, and both times, she found the experience upsetting and unpleasant.  The sharp sting of pain she usually enjoys during sex feels different when it’s meant to be punitive, like rejection, or an unhealthy assertion of power. 

Still, while hearing Sara transition from playful gasps to breathy moans to desperate whimpers, seeing her skin turn blush, then pink, then bright red under Len’s hands, doesn’t leave Iris with a burning desire to run out and try spanking again herself, it certainly sends the blood in her body rushing south fast. 

“Good?” Len asks, rubbing Sara’s ass with the flat of his hand to soothe her. 

“Yeah,” Sara replies, getting her breath back under control. 

Len’s hand slides up, and he presses his thumb to the small of her back. “I think you can handle more,” he says. 

“How many?” 

Len considers it for a moment. “Four,” he says finally, punctuating the response by pinching her ass. 

Sara whines, high and needy, and tosses her head back. 

“Four more and I’ll eat you out,” Len promises. Sara shudders. “You’ll deserve it. Such a good girl for me. Four more.” 

“Okay,” Sara agrees. She draws in a deep breath to steady herself, then reaches out across the bed to grab for Iris’ hand. They lock eyes, and Iris twines their fingers together, giving Sara’s hand a gentle, reassuring squeeze.  

Iris watches Sara writhe, caught somewhere between pain and euphoria, as Len delivers his final strikes. When he finishes, he bends down and places a wet, open-mouthed kiss at the base of her spine and whispers praise and appreciation into her skin. Then Len’s head dips lower, hands falling to Sara’s ass again, this time to spread it wide so his tongue can trace along her slit and press into her hole. 

Iris is unabashedly transfixed by the poetry of Len’s head between Sara’s thighs, thighs that have killed men before, but don’t think to do so now, even with her ass still raw and hot from the impact of his open palm. It makes Iris feel better about her own submission, that Sara is far from anyone’s doormat, anyone’s wallflower, anyone’s kept woman. There’s strength in trusting someone so completely, with your body, your whole self. Iris hadn’t always been able to accept, not until she’d seen the very desires she felt so much shame over reflected back at her in a woman who could break bone with her bare hands and lead a heroes through war. 

Len licks and sucks at Sara’s cunt until she’s whimpering and shaking. Iris is hot between her legs again, her nipples hard to the point of discomfort, but instead of fighting the sensation she lets it consume her, lets herself revel in the way watching Len and Sara together makes her body react so viscerally. 

“You wanna do something good for me, Sara?” Len asks when Sara’s breath ratchets up another notch, pulling his mouth from her folds and biting the swell of her ass hard enough to mark. Sara whines and Len smirks. “I think it’s time I got my cock wet. Would you do that for me?” 

Sara scrambles up to her knees as Len pulls back to give her room. Iris watches the sweat bead down her neck, an errant drop falling between her breasts and dipping into her bellybutton. Iris wants to follow the trail with her tongue, but she refrains. 

“Suck,” Len orders, twining a hand through Sara’s hair to adjust her position and pull her forward. The other hand holds his cock against her lips, and Sara opens eagerly to take him. Iris’ pussy throbs harder as she listens to the wet sounds of Sara swallowing Len down, taking him as deep as she can go with her mouth, then stroking the rest with her hand. 

The blowjob is sloppy. Saliva and precome drip form the corners of Sara’s mouth, down her chin, down Len’s shaft to his balls. Sara uses the added wetness to her advantage and rolls them in her hand. Len groans and thrusts hard, fucking Sara’s face. Sara gags but doesn’t let up, even as Len’s fingers loosen their hold to give her the chance. 

“You want me to come down your throat?” Len asks. The noise Sara makes sounds conflicted, and honestly, Iris feels the same. 

Fortunately, Len gets it. “You want it,” he says, still fucking into Sara’s mouth, and Sara takes it like a god damn pro. “But your greedy little pussy wants it more. You want me to fill you up, so you can watch it leak out of your pretty, pink hole, watch Iris lick it up like it’s candy.”

Sara does something with her tongue that makes Len gasp, makes his hips stutter, hands clenching tighter in her hair.

“Fuck,” Len swears, the expletive panted hot and heavy from his mouth, brow drawn tight. “I could give it to you so good, Sara. But I promised Iris I’d fuck her, and she’s been so well behaved. You want Iris to have my cock, too, don’t you?” 

Sara hums and does her best to nod with her mouth full and Len’s hands on her scalp. Len pulls his cock from between her lips and Sara draws in a desperate, heaving breath. Her lips are glistening and swollen, and Iris’s fingers twitch with want. 

“I think we should work her up a bit more, first,”  Len says, eying Iris, eyeing the slick coating her thighs and the place from which it originates. “So she’s gagging for it by the time it’s finally her turn.” 

Iris shudders. 

“Turn around,” Len instructs, maneuvering Sara with forceful, insistent hands until she’s face down, ass up again. He swats her ass, and Sara moans. “You want me to rail you until you’re sobbing, Sara? Get you so needy on my cock while Iris watches you fuck back against me like a bitch in heat?”

“Yes,” Sara gasps, hips already twitching. 

Len licks his fingers and brings them to her slit, stroking long and slow. “Are you willing to beg for it?” he asks. “You do it so well, Sara. Your mouth is filthy. So, beg for me. Show me just how much you want my cock and I’ll give it to you.” 

“Fuck, Len,” Sara groans, the muscles tensing in her thighs as she rubs herself against Len’s hand. “I want it so much. Want you to fuck into me until I can’t breathe, until all I can feel is you, deep in my pussy, stretching me out. I’m so wet, babe. I’ll feel so good, I promise. Work you however you want. Just put it inside. Put your dick in me, please.” 

Len smirks. He shoves three fingers in Sara’s cunt at once and makes her cry out. “Since you asked so nicely,” he draws, then removes his fingers to trade them out for his cock. 

Sara howls, her whole body arching into Len’s thrusts. He’s hard and fast and relentless, and Sara is a shaking, whimpering mess. Len takes a handful of Sara’s hair at the nape of her neck and places the other against her back, shoving her into the mattress and accentuating the curve of her spine. He pounds her so hard every slap of skin against skin crashes like thunder. Iris can hear how wet Sara is, and it makes her pussy drip. 

“Play with your tits, Iris,” Len says, shifting his gaze and watching Iris’ chest heave with laboured breaths. “Suck on your fingers and picture my cock. But don’t touch your pussy. That’s mine to make feel good. You understand?” 

Iris nods, scrambling to touch her nipples and alleviate some of their ach, though it only makes the ache between her legs stronger. “Yes, baby,” she says, before sliding three fingers into her mouth. 

Iris watches Len fuck Sara until Sara’s on the edge again, muscles shaking, moaning high and rapid, fingers grasping the sheets so hard her knuckles are white. Then he stops, pulling out, and Sara whines so keenly Iris’ thumb rubbing circles around her nipple is almost enough to make her come. 

“Lenny, please,” Sara sobs, drawing in ragged, heaving breaths. Len slaps the pads of his fingers against Sara’s clit, not overly harsh, but enough to make Sara’s whole body jolt, toes curling as she fights back her orgasm. 

“Thought you wanted Iris to get her turn,” Len drawls. “Don’t be greedy, Sara.” 

“Thought you liked me greedy,” Sara rebukes. 

Len runs his fingers through the sweat coating her back, oddly affectionate. “I like your pussy greedy,” he says. “But I like it best when my girls know how to share.” 

Shuffling forward, Len settles down on his back in the empty space between Sara and Iris. He turn his head to shoot Iris a heated look and runs the flat of his palm against her stomach, just below her bellybutton. His pinky skims the top of her pubic mound, and Iris shakes. 

“Ride my cock until you come,” Len says. 

It’s like a breath of fresh air in Iris’ lungs. She scrambles up to straddle him, grips him in her hand, and guides him into her pussy. Her thighs shake as she brings herself to the base, torturously slow and so fucking good. Then she’s moving, leveraging up and down with her hands on Len’s chest, taking every inch and feeling the slide as her walls grip him. 

“That’s it,” Len encourages. “Build it up nice and slow. I know how you like it.” 

Len’s hands caress her sides, cup her breasts, push back the hair falling out the messy bun at the top of her head. He trails his thumb across her bottom lip, swollen from biting it, then lets Iris take it into her mouth and suck. Iris’ hips continue to roll, and Len reaches down between the hot, wet press of their bodies to touch her clit. 

Iris gasps. 

“Feel good?” Len asks, and Iris nods. “Your pussy’s quivering around my cock. Must feel really good. You feel good too, Iris. God, you feel so good.” 

Len’s hips rock up to meet her thrusts. He takes his thumb from her mouth to capture her lips instead. They continue kissing, deep and slow, until the pressure between Iris’ thighs mounts to a point where slow is more frustrating than gratifying. Iris picks up speed and Len chuckles knowingly into her mouth. 

“You ready to ride me hard?” Len asks, nipping at her chin, and Iris nods again. “Sit back for me,” he says. “Give Sara room to come sit on my face.” 

Iris does as she’s asked, and Sara clambers over the moment Iris frees up enough space for her to straddle Len’s shoulders. She faces Iris and leans forward to take one of her breasts in her mouth, sucking and licking as Len’s arms come up to circle around her thighs, bracketing her in place just where he wants her. 

Then Iris is moving again, bouncing on Len’s cock and moaning wantonly as the change in angle lets her sink even deeper. Sara plays with Iris’ clit as she moves her hips, too, grinding her pussy against Len’s mouth. 

“Len, can I come?” Sara asks, taking her mouth from Iris’ nipple just long enough to speak, then moving it to the long, damp column of Iris’ neck to suck a bruise into her skin.  

“Let Iris go first,” Len replies. Sara whines at the loss of his mouth, but he returns it a second later, loud and wet and obscene. 

Sara curves her spine, kissing down Iris’ neck to flick her nipples with the point of her tongue, then down even farther until she’s able to get her mouth on Iris’ clit and the rest of the sensitive flesh where she and Len are joined. Sara licks and sucks ruthlessly, focused mostly on Iris’ pleasure and getting her off as quick as she can. Every so often, she ventures to lap the slick off Len’s cock, and Len rewards her with fingers thrust into her pussy alongside his tongue. Sara groans with her lips still around Iris’ clit. 

“Oh, fuck,” Iris swears, the vibrations sending a blinding shock of heat up her spine. Every muscle tenses and shakes as she balances so close to the edge. “I’m gonna come. I’m gonna come.” 

Len responds with a brutal thrust of his cock into her cunt. It presses right up against her G-spot, and that’s all it takes to pitch Iris headfirst into her orgams. She moans, high and loud, as her whole body shakes, her hands digging into Sara’s shoulders to keep herself upright. 

Sara’s orgasm comes seconds later. She cries out with relief into Iris’ pussy, her lips still latched around her clit. Sara’s muscles ripple under Iris’ fingers, and Iris pants sharp and hard as Len’s cock keeps driving into her cunt. 

“Are you gonna come for us, babe?” Sara asks, dropping a wet, lurid kiss to the base of Len’s dick. Iris keeps riding him, clenching around his cock with her walls to bring him to the end.

“Give Iris your come,” Sara says. “And we’ll eat it out of her pussy together.” 

Len’s orgasm hits him like a truck. He grunts, short and gravelly, into Sara’s thigh and fucks into Iris with quick, erratic thrusts, riding it out. Iris feels his cock twitch, feels his come shoot inside her, and she shivers, a wave of heat crawling up her spine and settling in as a pleasant tingle at the base of her skull. 

Sara moves first, crawling from the head of the bed to gather Iris in her arms. Iris lets Sara guide her onto her back, then watches from beneath her lashes as Sara settles between her thighs and sucks Len’s come out of her pussy. 

Len joins them a while later, once he’s caught his breath, though his forehead is still beaded beautifully with sweat. Iris parts her thighs wider to give him room, slides one leg over his shoulder while Sara shuffles sideways and lays her damp, warm body over the other. 

Len and Sara lick her together, lazy and slow. Iris’ clit throbs, almost painfully now, but no one’s looking to start another round. They lick and suck until all of Len’s come is gathered on their tongues, then turn and trade sloppy, obscene kisses, passing the come back and forth. 

Iris runs her fingers through Sara’s hair and traces the lines of Len’s crow’s feet with her eyes. They’re so beautiful together. 

And they’re all hers. 

Sara swallows down most of Len’s come, sucking on his tongue to chase the last of the taste from his mouth, the taste of all three of them combined. She slides up Iris’ side after and snuggles in, Iris throwing an arm around her shoulders to hold her close. Sara hums and sucks another hickey into Iris’ neck, possessive and tactile and stupid in love. 

Len settles in on Iris’ other side. He prefers his own space after sex where Sara turns into an unapologetic cuddlebug. Iris doesn’t mind either. Still, she warms when Len reaches out to bridge the gap and twine his and Iris’ fingers together. Iris brings their clasped hands to her lips and places a kiss against his knuckles as their gaze holds. 

Sara yawns, the damp skin exposed on Iris’ neck as her lips come away suddenly cold. Sara doesn’t bother covering her mouth and doesn’t go back to perfecting her handiwork when it passes. Instead, she cuddles even closer and uses Iris’ sternum as a pillow. 

“We can’t go to sleep,” Iris tells her. 

Sara huffs. “Why not?” 

Len chuckles. “Because it’s four in the afternoon,” he says. 

Sara doesn’t reply. She also doesn’t open her eyes, but her breath against Iris’ chest is too irregular for her to be asleep already. 

“Plus, the bread is probably done rising,” Iris adds. She feels Len’s fingers twitch around hers and turns her head so she can read his expression. One of his eyebrows is quirked. 

“I was cleaning, and I found an old recipe card in the safe,” Iris says softly. Len’s eyes are suddenly glassy. “Your mom’s?” she asks, though she already knows the answer. Len clears his throat, but his voice is raw and scratchy when he speaks anyway. 

“Yes.” 

Iris’ chest tightens. “I’m sorry if I shouldn’t have,” she says, earnest and gentle. “I just wanted to do something nice. I know you don’t talk about her very much. If there was some boundary I pushed--” 

Her apology stops short when Len pitches forward to capture her lips. The ice in her veins thaws, and she kisses back with enough passion to match. 

“I love you,” Len whispers, like it’s a secret meant only for the three of them, in this room. They’ve never hidden their relationship from anyone, but maybe that’s still somehow true. 

“I love you, too,” Iris replies. 

“And I love you,” Sara mumbles, dopey and bone-tired. Her eyes are open, but her lids are heavy and make them seem small. 

Iris chuckles and runs her fingers soothingly through Sara’s hair. “Fine,” she sighs. “You nap. Len and I will put the bread in the oven and make supper, okay?” 

“Thanks, babe,” Sara says. She place a kiss to the corner of Iris’ jaw, then against Len’s knuckles where they’re still holding hands. 

Grabbing the corner of a blanket with her toes, Sara wriggles until she can catch it in her hand and pull it over her shoulders. Iris giggles, smoothes back her hair, and places a kiss to her temple. 

“We’ll wake you up when it’s ready,” Iris promises. 

“Take your time,” Sara whisperes back. 

Len wraps a warm arm around Iris’ waist and pulls her out of bed. Her legs feel like Jell-O, but Len passing over his favourite thermal shirt for her to wear along with a fresh pair of panties makes her feel more grounded than she has for most of her life. 

“Gotta braid it right,” Len tells her as he slides on a pair of pajama pants, the snowflake ones Sara and Iris got him last year for Hanukkah. 

“Six strands, right?” Iris checks.

Len’s answering smile is wistful. Iris crosses the room to lay a hand on his chest, and he covers it with his own. “Just like mother used to make.” 

They shut the light out behind them and leave Sara to sleep as the smell of baking bread fills the apartment. 

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on [tumblr.](https://www.asexual-fandom-queen.tumblr.com)


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